


we've done this all before (don't you remember?)

by littlemagiclights



Category: Ghost Quartet - Malloy, Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Major Character Death is because of Ghost Quartet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemagiclights/pseuds/littlemagiclights
Summary: A Ghost Quartet/Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 crossoverMary's the one who remembers first. The rest of the pieces fall together soon after. Sonya/Rose Red is once again alone.





	we've done this all before (don't you remember?)

Princess Mary fits Natasha’s description exactly. She’s plain, wears a cross around her neck and dresses like an old woman. Then again, Sonya is plain herself, and shouldn’t be one to judge.

“You look familiar,” Sonya says, even though she can’t recall where she’s seen a face like that before. She drops the bags she holds,  plasters a smile on her face and offers her hand.  
  
“No,” Mary said, her voice breathy and light, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Princess Mary Bolkonskaya.” She takes Sonya’s hand and holds it in her fingertips for a second before realeasing.  
  
“I’m Sonya. Uh, just Sonya.” she introduces herself. Maybe she just resembles Andrei, who she saw around the Rostov house while her was courting Natasha.  
  
“Ah. Natasha’s cousin.” And Nikolai’s, she thinks, but it wouldn’t be prudent to speak of that now. Not when the girl her fiance is leaving her for stands in front of her with a slight smile.  
  
“Yes.” Neither of them speak after that. Princess Mary refuses to meet her eyes.  
  
They are lucky that Natasha and Nikolai come stumbling through the door, laughing and bumping each other. (Maybe not lucky for Sonya, because her heart still leaps at  Nikolai’s ruffled hair and rosy cheeks.) The siblings look between the two girls, and exchange glances that carry a conversation. Natasha runs to her then, pressing her cheek to her cousin’s.  
  
“Hey, Sonya,” she squeals, even though they had seen each other minutes before. She smells of flowers and perfume. Sonya wraps her arms around her closest friend and tries not to watch as Nikolai picks Mary up and spins her around, his laugh booming.  
Mary was probably breathing in the scent of gunfire and victory carried on his coat from the war, soaking in the warmth that Nikolai seemed to emanate in the coldest of times, and, oh, Sonya has never learned to hide her envy.  
  
Natasha quickly ushers her away to the room they’ll be staying in. Sonya carries Natasha’s extra bags and allows herself one look back at her could have been husband.  
  
Nikolai looks at her with something that could be regret. Curiously enough, Princess Mary wears the same expression.

* * *

Pierre begins visiting Natasha after that. He knocks at the door with hat in hand, and Natasha jumps up and runs to answer it.  
  
Whenever they look at each other, they blush and grin like children. Mary casts a knowing glance at Nikolai, but he’s not paying attention (Sonya has yet to break the habit of watching him). The princess’s gaze wanders over to Sonya. She jerks her chin over to Natasha and Pierre. Do you see this? Her eyes say.  
  
Sonya nods back, and Mary’s face blooms into a wide grin. She can’t help but grin back.  
  
The two men discuss politics and emperors, their voices raised in debate. Nikolai carries more passion and war experience, but Pierre recites passages from books he’s read from memory and ties them together into an impenetrable argument.  
  
Pierre’s eyes are turned skyward as he thinks. Sonya swears she’s seen that expression before.  
  
Nikolai leans on the back of Mary’s chair. Mary nods as he speaks, glaring at Pierre and daring him to rebut his arguments. Natasha sits almost in Pierre’s lap and gives the same look to Nikolai.  
  
For a moment it is all too clear that she is alone at the table. Pierre begins quoting a political pamphlet, and Nikolai’s face sours with each word. He and Mary exchange looks. Natasha glows with pride and Pierre wears a satisfied smile.  
For a second, his eyes meet Sonya’s and she soaks in the triumph.  
  
The moment is gone soon afterwards, but the joy remains in her chest.

* * *

Natasha insists on throwing a small party, for just the five of them. ( “Sonya, you can bring someone if you’d like,” she says, but both of them are aware of the improbability.)  
  
They are outside in the snow, and Sonya isn’t dressed for the weather. The night air goes down to her bones, and she tries to stay close to the fire.  
  
“Let’s tell ghost stories,” Natasha says. Nikolai and Pierre gravitate to her. With her impressions and dramatisms, Natasha is an expert storyteller. But Sonya has never been one for ghost stories. She moves across the circle to the other side of the fire and tries not to inhale smoke.  
  
Princess Mary takes a seat beside her. She wears Nikolai’s coat, but still shakes from the cold.  
  
“Natasha’s an impressive storyteller. You ought to listen,” Sonya says.  
  
“Oh, I get scared too easily to listen to those kinds of stories,” Mary replies. Across the circle Natasha wails as if she were a lost spirit.  
  
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Sonya asks. The wind picks up for a second, howling through the clearing and turning the fire on its side. Then everything is calm again.  
  
“Not Natasha’s type of ghost.” There’s a groan from Nikolai as he acts out the death of the poor traveller in the story.  
  
“Then what type?”  
  
Mary shrugs. “Andrei used to tell me stories. He said they lived in the shadows of the sky.”  
  
“Hm.” She scoots closer to Mary in order to hear her better.  
  
“And sometimes, you know, I see Lisa in little Nikolai. And sometimes I see Andrei.” Sonya’s heard whispers of Andrei’s first wife and his young son, but never has spoken to Mary of them. What Mary speaks of aren’t ghosts, however, and she shares that opinion with her.  
  
“Maybe, maybe not. No matter.” There is silence. Sonya looks across the circle to see that Natasha, Nikolai, and Pierre have vanished.  
  
Behind them there is a growl. Mary yelps as Nikolai leaps up to cover her eyes. He wears Natasha’s fur cloak over his head and shoulders.  
  
“And the bear leaped upon the soldier, gouging her eyes out and eating her flesh, leaving nothing but her bones glistening in the moonlight!” Natasha says. She barely gets the sentence out before doubling over in laughter.  
  
Nikolai removes his hands from Mary’s eyes. “You okay?” He asks.

  
Mary is frozen, with her mouth open and eyes wide. She looks at Sonya as if gazing through her.  
  
“You scared her.” Natasha hits Nikolai on the shoulder.  
  
Nikolai whispers in Mary’s ear, and she softens. Her face retains the same expression.  
  
It’s not the face of someone who has been scared by a bear. It’s the face of someone who has seen a ghost.

* * *

She’s playing cards by herself, of all things, because Natasha had disappeared somewhere upon Pierre’s arrival. There’s a knock at the door, and Sonya scatters the cards across the table and rushes to open it.  
  
She’s grown to realize the look of panic on Princess Mary’s face is how it normally rests. Still, she is surprised by everything else about her.  
  
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Mary says.  
  
“No, not at all,” Sonya replies, and ushers Mary in.  
  
Mary looks at the cards on the table, and Sonya feels the weight of her judgement. She shifts and readjusts her dress. Then Mary sighs.

  
“Would you mind watching little Nikolai for me? I need to go out, and you’re the only one here today. He’s great at cards.”  
  
Sonya nods almost automatically and has to stop her head’s movement. “Yeah. Uh. No problem.”  
  
“Thanks, Sonya,” Mary says, and reaches out to take her hand. There’s a shock, and Sonya jumps back, hand still out.  
  
“Sorry,” Mary says even though it isn’t her fault. Her brow furrows and she stares at Sonya’s hand.  
  
“Just send little Nikolai to me, and we’ll play,” Sonya says. But Mary seems to have forgotten the topic.

  
She looks Sonya in the eye and asks, “Do you remember?”  
  
“Remember what?” There’s a peculiar feeling that she should know what Mary talks about, but she can’t coax it out of the back of her mind.  
  
“Nothing.” Mary marches to the door. “Uh, if you ever need to talk to me, you know where to find me.”  
  
The door clicks closed. Sonya returns to the table and straightens her cards, piling them up and letting them fall together. The cards thrum as they intermingle and hit the table. It’s a comforting sound. It’s easier than trying to figure out what’s going on with Mary.

* * *

Pierre is talking to someone in the other room. If it were Nikolai she would be able to discern their conversation easily. If it were Natasha she wouldn’t hear talking.

  
She decides to ignore it until she hears her own name whispered through the walls.  
  
Sonya knocks at the door, and Pierre’s voice tells her to come in.

  
She opens it to find Pierre and Mary sitting with no room between them, their sides pressed together.

  
It could be some romantic affair, but they both look as put together as always(at least Mary does, because Pierre always looks like a rumpled mess.) Pierre, who usually would stand aside while Natasha jumped at her, rises and holds his arms open. “Rose.” He says, and takes her in his arms.  
  
There’s a muffled hiss of “She doesn’t remember!” from Mary, and Pierre lessens his grip.  
  
“Remember what, exactly?” Sonya says. It’s similar to the question Mary asked her at Natasha’s party, except this time Pierre’s involved somehow.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
  
Pierre and Mary speak simultaneously, and then go quiet.  
  
“It does matter, in fact. I’m sick of people hiding stuff from me. You want me to tell Natasha that you’re sneaking around with her brother’s fiancee behind their backs? She’ll tear you both apart. And I’ll sit here and watch gladly, all because you think I’m too stupid to understand any of what you’re doing,” she says. Or at least the words come from her. The rage carried in them is unfamiliar.  
  
All she sees in Pierre and Mary’s eyes are recognition. Pierre stands.

  
“My treehouse. Sigma Orionis AB. Stardust. Any of that sound familiar?”  
  
The words are familiar but Sonya does not remember them. She reaches for the memories that go with them, but there is nothing. Nothing except for a story.  
  
“There’s a soldier and a bear,” she says. “And they’re all connected somehow, but I’m not quite sure.”

Mary gets up and takes her hand.

“Rose Red,” she says. “It’s me. Pearl.”

The burst of anger that wells up in her stomach turns her vision red. Mary cries out. She had squeezed Mary’s hand violently.

“Sorry,” Sonya says, letting go and clutching the side of her dress. “But I still don’t remember.”

* * *

“Is Nikolai the soldier?” She asks Mary while the princess cleans the dining room. Mary makes a choking noise and drops the rag she’s holding.

“No. I don’t think so.” She picks up the rag and sets it on a nearby table.

“Then who is he?” Sonya presses further. “I remember him.”

“You remember him?” Mary thinks to herself for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin. “That would mean he has to be the bear.”

“No, he can’t be the bear,” Sonya says. After all, they fought over Nikolai the same way they fought over the astronomer. But Pierre was the astronomer, and so Nikolai couldn’t be.

“I think he’s the bear,” Mary repeats, and her jaw is set and gaze harsh.

“Oh. Well, what about Natasha? Do you remember her?”

“Do you?” Mary’s turning the questions back on her instead of answering them. But her question is valid. As much as she searches, Natasha is never as familiar as the other three.

“No.” She continues asking Mary questions. Some of them she answers in great detail, but most she deflects. Everything she says is accompanied by an intense feeling of familiarity, of having words on the tip of her tongue and experiencing new things that feel as if she had done them before.

Once Mary clams up and only allows one more question, she asks the one that itches the most. “If Nikolai’s not the soldier, then who is?”

Mary pauses, and searches the room before looking Sonya in the eye. “I am.” She turns on her heel and exits right after.

* * *

She sits in the dressing room with Mary and Pierre and talks. It’s all coming to her in bits and pieces, in small bursts of emotion that seem connected.

Nikolai has finally joined their little circle. He sits hugging his knees on the chair, face incredulous.

“You mean to tell me that we’re all ghosts.”

“I prefer souls. Not that I’m saying Natasha doesn’t have a soul, of course. Just that our souls are living out all versions of our lives, and we kind of remember them,” Pierre says.

“Great. So we remember things that haven’t happened yet.”

(In another memory, Nikolai stands screaming about the end of humanity. A roar echoes down a long tunnel. There is a train on its way.)

“Well, what do you remember?” Sonya asks Nikolai. Maybe he’ll remember her.

He looks at Pierre. “I think you’re my father.”

Mary laughs then, a full hearted, teary eyed laugh that makes her shake. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

“And you…” Nikolai turns to his fiancee, his eyebrows drawn together. “I had you killed.”

Mary frowns. “I don’t recall that.”

Nikolai shrugs, then turns to Sonya. “You were there too, but I don’t know who you were.”

“Oh.” It was just one of the peculiarities of the universe; for her, Mary was the only one who was fuzzy in her mind. But Nikolai she could see in clear focus.

“Not yet, anyway,” he says, and her heart soars in her chest.

The conversation turns to an exchange of questions, along with drinks for Nikolai and Pierre (Mary and Sonya decline). One of the four asks, “do you remember?” And the others reply with their recollection.

“Do you remember when we talked before I went to New York?” Nikolai asks Pierre.

Pierre nods solemnly and takes a swig of his drink.

“Do you remember when we sang together in the woods underneath the stars?” He asks, and Mary and Sonya nod. Sonya can’t remember the astronomer’s face, but recalls the roughness of his voice and the brush of his fingertips and the pinpricks of light in the night sky.

Mary laughs again. Sonya could’ve sworn she snorted. “Remember when we had the family meeting, and Roxie – Sonya– yelled at everyone?”

Nikolai and Pierre raise their glasses. “I just wanted to see the damned falconer,” Nikolai says.

“Oh, so you remember me now. Well, you all deserved that.” Sonya laughs. “Pierre, pass me your glass.”

He obliges. The alcohol burns as it goes down her throat, but for the first time she savors it.

“What about you? What do you remember?” Mary says, her eyes shining.

She directs her query towards Nikolai. “Do you remember when you lied to me just because you wanted honey?” There is more venom in her voice than she planned to put into it.

The room darkens. Pierre and Mary exchange glances, but Sonya’s attention is focused on Nikolai. He scratches his neck. “Kind of. It’s like deja vu, you know?”

There’s a shift in the fabric of the chair beneath her and Mary removes the drink from her hand.

Pierre stands up. “Natasha will be waiting. I must take my leave.”

Nikolai jumps up and accompanies him to the door. Mary leaves soon too, muttering about dishes and dinner.

They leave Sonya alone. As always.

* * *

The loneliness begins to gnaw at something inside of her. It’s ridiculous that in every lifetime, she has been abandoned and alone.

She voices her concern to Mary, who has noticed that she stays in her room often and raises her voice at the slightest irritation. The princess sits on the edge of her bed, weaving her hair into a tight braid.

“Perhaps the universe believes I’m meant to be alone.” She finishes, and Mary gives her a sad smile.

“That’s not true,” Mary says.

“Yes it is.”

(In another timeline, the astronomer looks at Pearl with stars in his eyes.)

“Don’t you remember?” Mary asks.

(The astronomer leaves as soon as she tells him that she carries his child. He leaves her a letter saying he’ll return but leaves Roxie waiting at the door.)

“I can’t.” Can’t or won’t, she thinks but pushes the thought away.

“There’s one timeline where you weren’t alone.”

“Tell me,” she begs Mary.

Mary reaches out her hand and pulls Sonya to her feet. She feels Mary’s hand at her waist and is guided in spins and turns and footsteps. And suddenly her mind is clear.

“The soldier and the bear,” Sonya says. Mary stops moving and lets her go.

“No, wait, the bear’s not in this timeline.” Sonya thinks. After she had stopped dancing, the image had been lost.

“Nope. Just you and me. No one else.”

Sonya forces Mary’s hand into hers, and even though Mary is technically the one leading, Sonya drags her through the steps. The timing is off, and her palms sweat, but soon she has burned the memory into her brain.

“I killed you.” She had, multiple times. But in this lifetime she had pulled the trigger herself.

“I loved you.” Mary replies, and takes over the dance again. She hums a tune that they fall into step with.

“I didn’t love you.” Sonya is spun around until she’s dizzy. She leans into Mary to steady herself. “I just wanted your honey.”

“But you weren’t alone, Sonya. You weren’t alone then, and you’re not alone now.” Mary holds her until the room rights itself again.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

Mary starts stroking her hair. It’s an odd gesture, but Sonya doesn’t stop her.

“I want you to stay with me and Nikolai,” she says. Her voice rumbles in her throat against Sonya’s forehead.

“I was supposed to go with Natasha to Pierre’s place,” she protests.

“In every timeline, I’ve been killed by someone I loved. Now all of you are here together and alive and hopefully not after my head. I can’t make Pierre stay, but I can ask you to.”

Sonya nods. It makes sense. And she’ll belong with someone, for once in her life. Warmth blooms in her chest at the idea.

“Sounds great.” Sonya pulls back and holds Mary’s hands in hers. “Will Nikolai be okay with it?”

Mary laughs. “At this point, I think he’s okay with anything as long as we’re not killing each other.”

“We’re all pretty messed up, aren’t we?” Sonya says. Not only now, but in every lifetime.

“Yeah. But you know. The planet keeps turning. The stars still shine.”

Mary pulls her to the door. “I’ll show you to your new room.”

“Oh, this one’s fine–”

“We don’t put family in the guest room. Come on.”

Sonya thinks of telescopes and stardust and photographs. She remembers the comet blazing through the winter night, the open mouthed stares of those around her, the screams of revelation and the world’s end. But it seems to get the world has only begun to rotate, and she has woken up for the first time.

She lets Mary lead her through the halls and into her new life.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago but only created an AO3 account recently. Say hi at littlemagiclights on Tumblr!


End file.
